


Untitled (You’re The Only Thing That’s Worth, What Life Is Worth)

by rxinventlove



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blackfrost - Freeform, Brief Graphic Description Of Suicical Thoughts, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 18:38:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15297594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxinventlove/pseuds/rxinventlove
Summary: Loki swears that he can feel the absence like a bullet to the chest, ringing straight and true right to his heart. The popcorn ceiling blurs together after a while, but he thinks he sees her face in the speckles.





	Untitled (You’re The Only Thing That’s Worth, What Life Is Worth)

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from untitled - rex orange county

The bed is _emptycold_ without her.

Loki swears that he can feel the absence like a bullet to the chest, ringing straight and true right to his heart. The popcorn ceiling blurs together after a while, but he thinks he sees her face in the speckles. 

It must’ve been three nights now that Natasha had been gone. Three too many, he thinks. She couldn’t tell him where she was going, she never did, but he knew it wasn’t safe. She knew, too, and she still left him anyway. Loki wished he didn’t take it personally, but every mission felt more and more like heartbreak.

His skin aches with the feeling of _emptycold_ and he misses her.

He misses Natasha’s warmth, her fire, the way her skin always seemed to burn him like spitfire. He misses the body next to his, humming under her breath or singing Russian lullabies. 

His eyes blur with unshed tears, and when he blinks them away he loses the shape of her face in the ceiling. He’s losing her.

Loki falls asleep like that, heart breaking with icy _emptycold_ and without his spider.

 —

 It’s too much work to get up the next morning, so stays in bed.

Loki sits, and feels ashamed of himself. His heart still burns _emptycold_ and he hates himself for it, he hates the weakness. He stays on the left side of the bed—her side—trying to remind himself that Natasha will come back. She always does and this time will be no different. His brain feels scrambled, how had he gone months without her? How had he lived a thousand years without her?

He feels like a child and he wants to strangle himself, spilt open his wrist and watch his veins bleed out. He wants to rip his traitorous heart right out of his chest and throw it at her feet, it wasn’t like she didn’t already have it anyway.

He can see the curve of her spine behind his eyelids, the soft expanse of her stomach and the cut of her cheek bones. He can feel her breasts against his hands and his mouth, the feeling of kissing her. He can feel her like a phantom limb and his body aches with it.

He wants her and all he feels is _emptycold_.

Loki doesn’t get up from the bed, the pillow barely even smells like her anymore, but he holds onto it. He has one of her necklaces clutched under the covers, just a small green stone on a gold chain. On a regular day it would’ve been around her neck, but she had to leave, had to leave every trace of regular, every trace of him. The small indent it left in his hand was welcome, something that wasn’t _emptycold_.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to fall back asleep, maybe it was an hour, perhaps a whole day, but the sleep that does come is fitful, restless without her warmth at his back. His nightmares are filled with red hair and _emptycold_ black, falling through the void, unable to grab her hand. He watches her fall forever, the only light seemingly coming from within her, until he finally loses her, until all the light is snuffed out and he’s left in the dark.

He wakes up screaming and calling for his spider.

He gets no answer, only the _emptycold_.

—

On the seventh day he hears the front door open. It’s a Sunday, there’s some biblical reference in there, he thinks.

It’s too much effort to move, Loki knows she will find him here, he dreads what her face will say when she sees him. The bed is still _emptycold_ and her pillow stopped smelling of her days ago, but he has the necklace in his hand.

The soft footsteps come closer, he knows he can only here her because she wants him to, and she stops outside the door.

“Loki.” It’s nothing more than a whisper and all the air traps itself in his lungs. He can sense her hand against the doorknob, almost like she’s asking permission, like she might not be allowed into her own bed.

“Natasha.” His voice cracks halfway through, what a pitiful thing he is.

She turns the handle then, she’s still in her catsuit, and her hair is even more red than he remembers. It never looks the same in his mind and it’s the only way he knows his nightmares from reality. She falls to her knees beside the bed, alive and safe. Her eyes are wide and open, he know she only shows him this, just him and no one else. She shows him that she has not changed in her absence, still his spider. His Natasha, no longer missing, no more _emptycold_. He takes the necklace and holds it out to her, an offering. When she puts it around her neck, he know it’s her way to remind him that she will always come back. With the stone around her neck she stands, peeling off the suit like she’s shedding a second skin. He moves back to his side, opening a space for her to crawl in.

Pressed flush against his chest, she touches him. The gentle scrape of nails over his face and the soft flutter of fingers on his hips tell him that she missed him. The feel of her hair against his his face drives away the _emptycold_. The kisses to his eyelids, cheeks, and nose tell him that she loves him. She touches him everywhere, just feeling.

The feel of her hand on his cock is delicious, mind numbing after being without her for so long. He shudders under her touch and can’t help the sobs when she whispers apologies into his ear, telling him that she missed him, that she was sorry for leaving him alone like this. She tells him that she will always come back, always, and he comes with words just on tip of his tongue, instead he screams in pleasure as a way of saying thank you, a way to tell her he’s glad she’s safe.

She holds him close after, kissing his forehead, and he doesn’t fight it. She sings him one of her Russian lullabies, and then some other ones in English. He falls asleep to the murmurs of a ladybird and children gone, knowing that his spider came to chase away the _emptycold_.


End file.
